For One More Day
by Envy Etiquette
Summary: One incident can change the course of an entire relationship. It can even change the course of someone's life. Emily and Spencer learn the hard way, wishing they could lead their lives as they used to be if for only one more day. Reid/Prentiss oneshot.


Short little one-shot I wrote while waiting for class, inspired by the One Direction song "Moments" written by the lovely Ed Sheeran. (Yes, I still occasionally enjoy boy bands.) A bit more angsty for me than usual, so I would appreciate any reviews. Also, it explains why Reid didn't join Morgan and Garcia when they visited Emily at her new post in London.

* * *

_If we could only have this life for one more day._

The life they had built together, only a foundation really, but Reid had believed the past year had been the beginning of the rest of their lives. Off the clock, they were nearly inseparable and completely compatible. He believed one day she with would be his wife, the future Mrs. Reid. That she would love him entirely, in sickness as in health, for better or for worse.

One thing no one ever mentions are the horrible parts of having an eidetic memory. People glorify the utility; how useful it must be when learning or, especially in his field, recalling faces and details. Reid never disputed those things because they were quite true, but the other side of the coin was remembering with impeccable precision the way anyone had ever wronged you. His memory was as close to a video camera as it got and at this moment, he was rereading the e-mails he had seen between her and the man she reconnected with from Italy. Like everything else, he remembered the case where the team met him. John Cooley, her friend who survived when Matthew died because of that priest. She hadn't admitted it to the team, and it wasn't their business, but Reid felt sure John was the father of the child Emily chose not to have. Their correspondence confirmed his suspicions. He had used her laptop, which wasn't unusual when he slept at her place, but she left her e-mail up and his ability to read 20,000 words per minute meant he had finished reading their most recent letters before he even fully comprehended he was doing it. That by itself didn't bother him, he could understand John's importance to her, the desire to communicate with someone who shared the same loss as her.

Then his mind would get to the part about them sleeping together. To her credit, she was telling him she couldn't see him again. It meant little in the face of what she had done.

He stared at her ceiling, the room lightening with the morning sun's slow ascent into the sky. He could hear her peaceful breathing from where she lay beside him with her face resting against his chest. His fingers drifted to her hair as his eyes rested on her sleeping figure. This was his Emily: beautiful and tough and pure. She didn't keep secrets from him, she wouldn't hurt him this way. Closing his eyes, he told himself he should've seen it coming. She was too independent, she had needed to be her whole life, and she compartmentalized too well. Emily Prentiss didn't know how to be with someone.

He reminisced about the day they first met. The ambassador's daughter who came as Elle's replacement sooner than anyone would've liked. But she had clicked with the team; she was smart, level-headed, and saw through everyone's bullshit, his own included. She was well read, an Ivy League alumnus, and could hold her own in a chess match against him. He had lashed out at her while strung out on Dilaudid, and while she was tactful, she didn't turn a blind eye to his addiction like the others. He respected that about her and it was one of the many things he loved about her.

Loved. A feeling in the past tense because he knew that even if he wanted to, or rather, despite how much he wanted to, he would never be able to forgive Emily her indiscretion.

"Reid?" He hadn't even noticed her waking, but now she was sitting up with her face full of concern as she looked at him. "Hey, why are you crying?" He had also failed to notice the few tears of his that had escaped. Quickly, he reached up to brush them away before he returned her gaze. "Talk to me, what's wrong?" He shook his head as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, the signs of a headache beginning to form. "Reid?"

"John Cooley."

Emily's already fair skin became chalk white at his words.

"You know."

"Yeah, I do." She didn't question him further, sitting frozen as he swung his legs off the bed and stood up. She remained silent as he pulled on clothes he had left in one of her drawers. He kept his back facing her, finding it easier to focus on his routine task without seeing her. He buttoned the last button on his cardigan before she finally spoke.

"How long have you known?" He turned to face her. She was sitting at the foot of the bed with her eyes downcast.

"Three days."

"You didn't say anything."

"I wanted to be sure of what I'd do," He replied as he picked up his watch from her end table, fastening it over top his sleeve.

"And are you?" She questioned. "Sure?"

"Emily, do you know what the statistics are on relationships where one of the partners cheats?" She looked at him then, apparently annoyed by his statement.

"Spencer, I don't want statistics right now, I want to know what you're feeling."

"God, Emily, how do you think I'm feeling?" He shouted at her, having no patience for her vexation. "It's no secret I have abandonment issues, I mean, come on! You know me, you even witnessed it with Gideon. You betrayed me, my trust in you. I could have probably forgiven you if you had actually told me what you did. It would've taken time, but I could have forgiven that. But you never told me! Three months and you never admitted what you did, and as far as I know, you never would have."

"I didn't know how. How was I supposed to tell you? I didn't want to hurt you, I love-"

"No. You do not get to tell me you love me. You don't cheat on people you love." Emily was doe-eyed and mute following his statement. His words were true, but they still stung. When she finally found her voice, she only provided a rudimentary explanation.

"I made a mistake, Spencer!" He laughed mirthlessly as he grabbed his messenger bag from atop her dresser. "Spencer, please."

"Emily, you may have made a mistake, but you made a choice not to tell me."

"I didn't want to hurt you," She repeated, as if it were somehow a better explanation the second time.

"Well, you managed to find the way to hurt me more than anyone else ever has, so I'd say you failed."

She followed him out of her bedroom as he made his way to her front door, trying think of ways to make him stay.

"I'm so sorry," She said, her tears finally falling as the shock of everything passed. "Please believe me."

"I do believe you, Emily," He muttered without looking at her. "I just can't forgive you."

She grabbed his wrist, every bone in her body pleading with him, begging him to stay, because they had become Spencer and Emily and she didn't know if it was possible to go back to just being Emily. She knew if he walked out that door right now, he would never come back. He withdrew his arm from her, knowing the longer he stayed, the less sure his resolve would be.

"Don't leave me, Spencer," She managed through her tears as she watched him cross the few feet between her and her door.

"Clearly you left me way before today, Emily."

He turned to look at her one last time, dropping his key to her apartment on the table beside her front door.

"Goodbye, Emily."

"I love you, Spencer," She choked out, wiping her face as she did so. He sighed, taking a step towards her, but thought better of what he planned to do.

"I know," He replied, turning back to the door. "Me, too."

The next day, Emily met with Hotchner, informing him she had decided to take a position at the London Interpol office. He called it impetuous, she claimed it made sense for her career. His reply had been that there were things in life more important than careers. She refuted him, telling him that for her, there simply wasn't. Not anymore at least. She kept up appearances for JJ's wedding, both her and Reid acting as though everything were fine, although failing to fool the profilers in the room. Emily was always good at playing pretend and today he was, too. As they danced to a slow ballad, he saw resigned sadness in her smile.

"You aren't going to stay, are you?" He whispered against her ear, his breath on her all too familiar.

"I don't want to be without you, Reid, but I don't want to be reminded either."

"I'm sorry," He said. It wasn't his mistake, but it didn't change the fact he felt sorry for everything that was happening.

"I know," She said sombrely as she pulled away from him. "Me, too."

_If we could only turn back time._


End file.
